


Same Time Next Week

by Argyle



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argyle/pseuds/Argyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik spends most nights wandering the mansion. It's only by chance that he comes across Charles and Raven as they partake in a weekly ritual: television therapy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Time Next Week

Erik can't help but admit it: Charles' mansion has its qualities.

They include things that go beyond the ample training grounds and Danger Room -- though one look at that space makes it difficult to imagine it wasn't always intended to be a place for young mutants to hone their powers, Xavier senior's paranoia be damned -- and things that go past the halls lined with enough wood and gilt to ensure any nocturnal activities won't be heard in the next bedroom over. (Or but vaguely, and Charles sees to the rest.)

To begin, the place just screams out to be meandered through, alone and preferably at night.

This is a past-time Erik has had plenty of time to perfect. There is no other sound quite like that of his boots down an empty hall and across the aged floorboards which take on a unique, creaking resonance after the sun has gone down. It's that of life, settling.

Erik knows to use this to his gain: men at rest and tucked in for a nightcap are rather more malleable, more easily subjected to suggestion, when they're torn from a fantasy of safe haven.

But he also knows such times and places pose a chance for observation.

It's easy to lose yourself under Charles' roof. Not in the sense of lacking direction. But rather in the simplicity of finding an empty corner in which be alone with your thoughts, never needing to worry of disruption.

Tonight, Erik has been wandering for nearly an hour. He knows the students are all packed round the billiards table in what Charles calls a wreck room, though with its numerous game setups and reel-to-reel system, it's actually closer to a full-scale entertainment parlor. Charles himself has retired to his study, claiming fatigue, but with a promise that they wouldn't miss their nightly chess game.

And so Erik is left even more to himself than he's become used to.

Near the eastern corner of the third floor, not far from the auxiliary library, Erik lingers by a wide window, staring out over the lawn. The moon is almost full. Steady, pale light pools on the sill, then down to the floor, catching shadows at Erik's feet.

He is unaccustomed to staying too long in one place. Already, several weeks have passed since the fiasco at the CIA base, and yet more since Charles yanked Erik from his course in Miami. But it is of his own free will, he is certain.

 _I won't stop you leaving. I could. But I won't._

This -- what Charles is offering the children, and what he offers Erik -- has an unreal quality, dreamlike, not something Erik had ever imagined was possible. And nor does he think it is. He's simply willing to take any resource that comes to him, and if not manipulate it, then certainly bend it to his will.

It's then that he hears a low voice through a nearby door, and a moment passes before he realizes it belongs to Charles.

"Raven? Raven, if you don't hurry you'll miss the intro."

"C'mon, Charles. It's not like I haven't seen it a million times before," comes Raven's reply.

"But you love the intro..." And then: //Erik. There's no use scrabbling about like some dashed burglar -- or worse, a sort of _Rochester_ , skulking in the darkness.//

The door swings open, and Charles is there, smiling a little, his hand still on the knob. He's unbuttoned his collar, and his sleeves are rolled to the elbows. "Well? Why don't you join us? Raven's favorite programme is about to begin."

Erik peers round the door frame. Raven is there on the sofa, legs stretched out to rest on the coffee table, a heaping bowl of popcorn on her lap and a beer bottle in her hand. "Hey," she says, shooting a glare at Charles' back. Then, to Erik: "He's watched just about every episode. Pretty square, huh?"

Charles puffs out a laugh, his cheeks reddening slightly. It isn't unattractive. "Well," he says again. "It's the season finale, anyway." He meets Erik's eye. "Unless you've something more important to do, and I'm sure..."

"Sure," Erik agrees. He enters the room, which turns out to be a sort of gentleman's den. Several gaudy paintings of ducks in flight deck the walls, and the walls themselves are covered in a horrid tartan paper.

But the real center of attention is the television set, a hulking, oak-paneled box with a twenty-two inch screen. There's a lamp on in the corner, but everything is cast in its silver and white glow.

"Good. I'm glad," Charles says, and Erik suspects he means it. Erik follows him to the sofa, where Charles proffers him a beer. He takes a swig of his own before he continues, "It's an anthology thing. Bit of suspense, bit of drama. A few monsters. I don't suppose you've seen it before?"

"I've not had much time for entertainment," Erik says.

Charles' brow knits. "Ah. Of course."

"Right." Raven takes this as an opportunity to pass the popcorn. "We're still waiting to see some people on here like us," she says. And in her best Charles impression shy of actually shifting into Charles, "But one doesn't give up hope!"

"Raven, please," Charles drawls. He palms some popcorn before passing the bowl to Erik. Their fingers brush, and he catches Erik's eye. //It's only half an hour...//

//I'm a man of patience,// Erik sends back. He lets his mouth quirk, just round the corners, then settles into the sofa a bit deeper, draping his left arm along the back.

They sit through a few advertisements before the screen goes dark, and then the speakers pipe out a repetitive guitar drone, low and in time with the rotating cone of concentric circles that flares up across the screen. A man's voice falls over it all, but Erik doesn't really listen.

For the moment, there's only Charles' thigh pressed close to his own, warm through the wool of his trousers. There's the crisp, bitter flavor of the ale -- an English import, Erik notes, and will rib Charles about later. And there's the flicker of light curled over the three of them, side-by-side.

It isn't ease that he feels, but it's close.

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case, [here's that intro](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-b5aW08ivHU)! The Season 3 finale aired 6/1/62, so the timing is perhaps a bit wibbly-wobbly.


End file.
